A Christmas Song
by BeforeTheStorm15
Summary: One Christmas morning, two special men in Emma's life decide to surprise her with a song.


**A short and (hopefully) sweet piece of fluff to celebrate Christmas with. Enjoy :)**

* * *

"You wrote me a song?" Emma looked incredulous.

Had she not been living in Storybrooke, a town known for its dangers and mysteries, she might've questioned her own sanity.

Because it was Christmas morning and she was about to be serenaded by a reformed pirate…

"No, love. _We_ wrote you a song."

Because it was Christmas and she was about to be serenaded by a formed pirate _and_ her gleefully grinning kid.

"Hi, mom!"

"You roped my _son_ into this too?" Emma let out a sound that sounded like a gasp but drew itself out into a _this-is-actually-my-life_ groan. "Seriously, guys?"

Killian grinned just as widely. "Indeed." He reached out a hand to high-five the boy - who was carrying a violin proudly in his arms - before re-focusing on the guitar resting on his lap. "He was most helpful, weren't you, lad?"

"We've been practising so hard, mom. Granny even let us practise in her spare rooms!"

"Poor woman." Emma snorted. The thought of Henry and Killian sneaking off to practise screeching and song-writing somewhere in Granny's was amusing beyond belief. She couldn't stay mad for even a moment. Her smile was already growing.

"Indeed, Swan. Remind me to thank the lass properly. I dare think how many damn noise complaints were filed against us."

Henry lifted his chin. "Worth it."

"We shall see, my boy." Killian cleared his throat and gestured to the chair they'd placed in the middle of the lounge area. Tiny fairy-lights hung in various colours around the entire house, but this room had been given careful thought. Her favourite colours, yellow and purple, were strewn across the lounge in graceful sparkles. Candles sat in neat rows around the window ledges and alongside the tables too.

"Now, Emma, if you would please sit and listen to our gift. If you keep gawking, your family will be over to join in also. and I regret to inform you that your father cannot hold a bloody tune."

Charming, Snow and all the others in the Swan-Nolan-Mills-Jones extended family had agreed to come over in the afternoon to open presents and help with the very large meal being planned by Snow as this occurred. This year, Emma and Killian were hosting, however it always developed into a group effort every time.

Picturing everyone watching her flushed and bemused as her son and boyfriend sang, Emma quickly took the seat and watched.

Killian slid his fingers gently across the guitar, playing with the strings for a few moments while Henry stretched his wrists and placed the violin under his chin. He waited until Killian looked at him, eyes soft yet urgent.

She knew that Henry had picked up an instrument, but she hadn't realised it was for her. And as for Killian, she'd heard faint musical sounds coming from his ship sometimes, but she didn't put two and two together until now.

"Ready when you are, lad."

"3, 2, 1…"

Together, they struck up a slow rhythm; Killian confidently playing the base chords and following Henry's faster paced melodic strokes. The instruments played sweetly together. It was a harmony which seemed to work peacefully, yet also strained with a tension that made Emma's heart swell. They played so carefully. Killian's eyebrows were furrowed so hard that she feared they'd disappear altogether, and Henry had his lower lip caught in-between his teeth.

After a minute, Killian cleared his throat and begun to sing. It was instantly recognisable as a sea lullaby; comforting and mournful all at once;

 _We're homeward bound  
We'd have you know  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.  
And over the water  
To England must go,  
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound._

Henry joined in, quiet and higher than Killian's lower tone.

 _Heave with a will,  
And heave long and strong,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.  
Sing a good chorus  
For 'tis a good song.  
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound. _

The blend of pitches was warmer than any magic she'd ever felt. Tears formed in Emma's eyes and she let them slowly fall, watching as the pair sung on.

 _Hurrah! that good run  
Brought the anchor a-weigh,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.  
She's up to the hawse,  
Sing before we belay.  
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound._

For the final verse, Killian silenced his guitar and watched alongside Emma as Henry swept the song into a crescendoing solo. It was epic and powerful and Emma felt so proud, watching her son so swept away in a passion. After a minute, the violin softened and Killian plucked a few chords. They sung the final verse together;

 _'We're homeward bound,'  
You've heard us say,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,  
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.  
Hook on the cat fall then,  
And rut her away.  
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound._

Singing 'homeward bound', Killian held Emma's gaze and smiled warmly. She was speechless in the intensity of his eyes, so blue and relaxed in expressing the love conveyed so easily. It was a feeling she would never be used to. A feeling she would never want to be used to. It was new and old all at once. A love that felt like forever and brand new with every morning that passed.

If words were possible, Emma was sure she'd say that she understood. That she knew 'homeward bound' meant just as much to her as it did to Killian. She would sing out her own love for the both of them, and especially on such a day as this, a beautiful Christmas morning, uninterrupted by Storybrooke's next crisis, Emma would tell them over and over again how much she needed and loved them.

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas, mom."

She only smiled, tears still falling. They put down their instruments and Henry reached down, kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly, finally able to speak. "Thank you, Henry. I love you. It was the best present I've ever had."

"Love you too, mom." He cast a glance at Killian and then back to Emma. He grinned and cleared his throat. "I'll go get the turkey from Granny's. See you in a bit!"

Emma laughed and shook her head fondly. "The kid is too smart."

"Aye. He gets it from his mother."

She looked up at Killian only to find him standing a foot away, guitar hanging from his hand and looking at her intently. He seemed to be waiting.

"The song was beautiful, Killian. Thank you. I can't say what it meant to me, but…it meant a lot."

"I am glad, however," He stepped closer, so that she could hear his breath catch and his chest rise and fall urgently. "That was only your first present."

Now it was her turn to look nervous. Thousands of thoughts rushed through her mind, some of the innocent and some of the not quite.

 _Jesus would so not be impressed._ Emma tried to stay calm, but Killian's eyes were on hers and she felt an anticipation so deep that it began to spark her magic. Tingles spread throughout her body, gently dancing in a way that made her feel every inch of her clothes and his. She counted the layers between bare skin.

 _Too many. Too many. Far too many._

"Your lad told me how Christmas is a time for family. And well, surely you know by now that you are my family. You, Henry and the bloody hundreds of people who are a part of this town. I want you to know that. Always."

"I do." She said softly.

Killian raised an eyebrow and grinned. "A tad too soon, Swan."

"What?"

Killian slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

"What are you- _oh!"_

He stared up at her with a happy grin, watching her eyes widen and her mind race to catch up.

"I already asked your parents, and Henry. This is something I have wanted since I met you, Emma. Should you accept, I can promise to make it my life's work to fill your life with family and love."

His voice was as soft as it was vulnerable. He took a deep breath and continued only when she took his hand in her own and smiling, nodded for him to carry on.

"I have lived a long time, Swan, and I have been as lonely as you. I understand your pain and your past. And I accept it. I am asking to be a part of your future, forever. To be someone you can always depend on during the hardest times and the easier times too. For as long as you will have me."

As he spoke, Emma found it hard to hide her smile at his speech. _You have always been those things to me, you dumb pirate._

Killian slipped out the small, ornate black box encircled with tiny gold stones. He opened it with careful fingers, showing Emma the dainty gold ring resting in the velvet. "So, will you, Emma Swan….marry me?"

There was never any doubt.

She knelt to his height and nodded, unable to speak. Tears would not stop streaming down her cheeks as Killian placed the ring onto her finger and cradled her cheek, then pulling her to him in a tight embrace.

She kissed her answer into his lips. _Yes. Yes. Yes._

When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and laughed once, slightly breathless. "That was a yes, by the way."

"Oh, good."

They laughed again, in a state of overwhelming tenderness. She was sure they should be starting the dinner preparations soon, and organising presents and such. She would have to enjoy the chaotic reactions of her family and friends, with Killian by her side as always.

But for now, Emma wanted to stay in Killian's arms for another minute. Or two. Thinking back to her lonely childhood Christmases at various foster homes, she imagined visiting her younger self. What would she say?

 _You are so loved. Stay strong. They are waiting for you. You are going to be loved by two amazing parents, who will fight and teach you how to love yourself. You are going to be shaped by an amazing son. He will change your world and then become your world. You will have friends and enemies alike and battle monsters and go to the Underworld and back to rescue your soulmate. And he will do it for you in so many other ways._

Emma smiled, the feel of the ring making her smile wider. She kissed Killian again, brushing her fingers through his hair and sharing his warmth.

 _And you will fall in love with a man who makes you so happy. A man who understands you and challenges you. A man who surprises you with thoughtful gifts and a steady hand to hold, no matter what it is you're fighting against._

 _You just have to wait._

 _One day, you'll have a Christmas filled with music and light and love. A chaotic, beautiful mess of a Christmas._

 _And it will start with a Christmas song._


End file.
